Community finds healing atop Mount Constitution
Published 1:30 am Friday, May 22, 2026
As the first pale light of Thursday morning broke over the San Juan Islands, something ancient and alive stirred at the summit of Mount Constitution. Voices rose into the cool air. Children pressed close to their elders. Hands rested on shoulders. And for a community that has known deep loss and enduring strength in equal measure, the Gathering of the Eagles Sacred Sunrise ceremony offered something precious: a moment to breathe, to be seen and to remember who they are.
“The dawn of a new day,” said Jacob Johns, a Hopi and Akimel O’odham environmental defender and one of the ceremony’s central voices, addressing the gathered crowd as the sun climbed the horizon. “The light, and the safety of the community, and the presence of the community.” His words moved like the morning itself — slow, warm, expanding. He invited those present to connect their hearts to something deeper, to recognize that the same fire burning at the center of the earth burns within each person standing on that mountain. “Every single one of you are impactful in this world,” he said, “and every single one of you has words that have weight.”
It was a morning built for healing. Freddie Lane — known by his indigenous name as Sul ka dub, and the organizer of the Gathering of the Eagles — called the young people forward into the center of the circle, with elders forming a ring around them — hands on shoulders, prayers offered quietly. The gesture was unmistakable: the children at the heart of everything, protected, witnessed, held.
“Suela,” the community said together. We see you. We hear you. We love you. We will always protect you.
The word was spoken again and again, a living medicine passed between generations.
Another leader who spoke during the gathering acknowledged the courage it takes simply to show up and be open — to bring one’s language, one’s song, one’s prayer to a place and let it be received. “I know for a fact that our ancestors see you,” he said, “because you made that a point to.” He reminded the gathering of something his late grandfather and grandmother would always say about moments like this one: This is school here.
Not school in the institutional sense, but school in the original, human sense — learning through presence, through relationship, through the passing of knowledge from those who have lived to those who are still becoming.
“If we’re not healthy in here,” he asked gently, gesturing inward, “who can we really teach?”
Lane spoke of plans for the day ahead — a journey to Massacre Bay, where elders would lead a dialogue with the land itself, speaking in the many languages and dialects carried by those present. He urged the youth to listen carefully to every tongue spoken, every culture represented.
Lane, closing the gathering, asked the crowd to turn and embrace the person beside them. “Give a hug,” he said with warmth and laughter woven together. “Shake their hand.”
